


Let Us Go in Love

by PetrichorPerfume



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Chastity Device, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, Grieving Castiel, Love Confessions, M/M, Michael Being A Dick, Minor Character Death, Prince Castiel, Prince Gabriel, Prince Lucifer (Supernatural), Prince Michael, Punishment, Slavery, Team Free Will, Wet Dream, Whipping, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: Castiel is a prince of the Kingdom of Heaven, and Dean is a sex slave presented to him as a gift from the royal court. Can the two of them find common ground as they make the choice between peace and freedom? Together, they'll figure out what it means to love and be loved in return.





	1. Daydreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Rating might change as the story progresses.

 

The proceedings were taking forever, and to say that Castiel’s mind was elsewhere would be an understatement. He was dreaming of a life far away from here, where he would be free from the pressures of the court and the trials of princely life. Maybe one day, he’d run away. Maybe he’d steal away in the night and-

 

“And what do you think, Castiel?”

 

Castiel was startled out of his reverie by Michael’s question. He could see that his brother was less than amused, so he smiled demurely and said, “I think that whatever you say is very wise, brother.”

 

Michael harrumphed, and for a moment Castiel was sure he’d been caught, but after a moment it became clear that his elder brother could find no fault in his answer. “Then it is decided-” was all he heard before he was lost in another daydream.

 

***

 

"Whew, that was a close call,” Gabriel whispered to him as soon as the others had dispersed from the war room. “Daydreaming in court again? I’m disappointed in you, Cassie.”

 

Cas rolled his eyes and watched in barely disguised horror as Gabriel leapt up on the table, regardless of the maps of their warring neighbors that were littered across the surface. “What in the name of our Father are you doing up there?” he hissed.

 

Gabriel stuck his tongue out. “Don’t get all judgy on me, now, Mister. If you must know, I like it up here. It gives one perspective.”

 

“What if Michael comes back and sees you trampling all over his maps?”

 

Shrugging, Gabriel simply said, “Eh.” Then he jumped down. “There’s a present from the court in your room. I wouldn’t keep him waiting. Happy birthday, Cas.” With that, he turned to go.

 

“Wait, what? From the court? _Him_?”

 

“I’ve already said too much,” Gabriel said, pantomiming sealing his lips shut.

 

Then he was gone, and Castiel was left shaking his head in an empty war room and wondering about his favorite brother’s sanity.

 

***

 

By the time Castiel got to the suite of rooms that made up his living space, he was convinced that Gabriel had found an excuse to get him a puppy. He didn’t particularly like the creatures, but they did have a certain appeal when they grew up. That loyalty was hard not to admire, and they could make good companions, or so he’d heard.

 

What he wasn’t expecting was a naked man, on his bed, wearing little else but a chastity belt and a key around his neck.

 

“Is this Gabriel’s idea of a joke?” Castiel couldn’t help but wonder aloud.

 

“I am your new servant, here to take see to your every pleasure, sir,” the man said, sounding like he hated the taste of each and every word.

 

“Servant, or slave?” Cas asked slowly.

 

“I am a pleasure slave, sir,” the man answered.

 

“That’s-” Castiel faltered, looking for a word that would describe exactly how revolting he found the idea of owning another person. Slaves were, of course, common amongst the ruling families of the court, but Castiel found the practice abhorrent and had wielded what little power he had in order to all but abolish the keeping of slaves within his own palace. “What’s your name?” He asked gently, approaching the slave with a mix of curiosity and horror.

 

The man flinched. “I don’t have a name anymore,” he spat.

 

“You do to me,” Castiel said softly. “I don’t know who’s idea of a joke it was to send you to me, but I promise they will pay dearly.”

 

“Dean,” the man said after a long moment of silence in which all that could be heard was the faint chirping of crickets outside and the soft sound of the wind buffeting the palace walls.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“That’s my name,” Dean elaborated, shifting uncomfortably. “Or at least, it was.”

 

“It still is,” Castiel declared. He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he simply set his pack down on the chair by the vanity and starting undressing.

 

When he turned back around, half-naked, he found that Dean had spread himself across his bed. He scowled. “Stop that. I thought I made myself clear.”

 

Dean froze, a flush rising in his cheeks. “I thought-” He motioned towards Castiel, whose robes were gathered in a puddle around his feet.

 

Blushing, Castiel managed to stammer, “I- I was just getting into something more comfortable. I assure you, your services are neither needed nor wanted. I’ll make sure you are returned in the morning to whomever thought it would be funny to send you here.”

 

At that, Dean shot up. “Wait,” he blurted out. “You’ve been so kind. Keep me around for a while. I promise I’ll be useful.”

 

Castiel glowered harder. “Like I said, I don’t need-”

 

“Please.”

 

They both froze, Castiel’s blue eyes peering into Dean’s. “I could use a companion,” he admitted. “Being a Prince of the Kingdom of Heaven does get lonely.”

 

“Then let me be your companion,” Dean pleaded. “I don’t want to go back to Lord Zachariah.”

 

“Aha, so he’s the one who sent you here. Figures.”

 

Dean broke their gaze and averted his eyes to the floor. “My father... He sold me to the cruelest Master he could find. I... I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have been sent here, to you.”

 

Castiel stalked forward until he was at the edge of the bed, then took one of Dean’s hands in his own. He was overcome by a sudden wave of sympathy. “I promise you, that so long as I am breathing, I will not let you get sent back to him. I will do everything in my power to protect you, Dean.”

 

Dean didn’t say anything in response, but his blush was answer enough and besides, Castiel could practically feel the waves of gratitude pulsing off of the other man.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a long day,” Castiel said. “There’s only one bed in my suite, but I’m sure I can arrange to have another one sent in tomorrow morning. For tonight, though, we’ll share.”

 

“Share?” Dean parroted.

 

The corner of Castiel’s lip quirked up in a half-smile. “Have you never heard of the concept?” He paused. “I promise you, nothing untoward is going to happen between us while we sleep.”

 

Dean’s blush just deepened. He wordlessly made room for Castiel as the other finished dressing in his nightclothes.

 

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel whispered as he climbed into the bed beside his new friend.

 

“Goodnight.” A pause. “Cas.”

 

Castiel fell asleep smiling that night.


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is still a virgin in the morning light, much to Gabriel's amusement. Dean shares a moment with Castiel, who later makes a discovery about his new slave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing this to Mature though nothing quite happens... Yet.

 

When he awoke, Castiel was warmer than he remembered being in a while. The winter night hadn’t quite relinquished its hold on the morning, and the gardens outside where still shadowed in the dark of the night.

 

He tried to move, but failed. It took his still groggy mind a moment to remember last night, and he smiled when the memory of Dean came to him. The other man had an arm and a leg draped across Castiel, and though the metal of Dean’s chastity belt poked a bit at his hip, he was quite warm and cozy in the other’s arms.

 

After a moment or two, he dared to snuggle in closer and sighed in contentment.

 

It didn’t take Dean long to wake up after that. The sun was just beginning to shed its life-giving rays over the land when he jolted awake, breathing heavily. His eyes met Castiel’s, and he slowly began to untangle himself from the prince.

 

“Wait,” Castiel entreated him.

 

Dean paused in his motions.

 

“Stay a while. It’s cold,” Cas said by way of explanation.

 

Blushing, Dean settled back in. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

“About?”

 

“I’m a sleep-cuddler,” Dean said defensively.

 

“I can see that,” Castiel replied with a grin.

 

“It doesn’t mean a thing,” Dean answered, tilting his head up defiantly.

 

“I know,” Castiel said, breathing growing shallow as his eyes grazed over Dean’s lips, so very close to his own.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m going to get up, now.”

 

“I think... I think you should do that,” Castiel replied, breath hitching.

 

By the time Dean had untangled himself, Cas was thinking more clearly. The sun was shining through the Eastern windows, now, casting a thin, diffuse glow of light onto every surface. Dean looked positively radiant in light of the morning sun, which colored his skin a beautiful, rosy shade of pink, and Castiel couldn’t help the blush that rose to his cheeks.

 

They stood there for a moment, neither one of them daring to move, or to speak, as the shadows slowly shifted around them. “Do you have a washroom?” Dean asked after a while.

 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Castiel nodded. “That door,” he said, pointing.

 

Dean turned to go.

 

“Wait,” Castiel called after him. “Please... Take that contraption off. I’ll have some clothes laid out for you when you come back.”

 

Dean paled to the point that not even the light of the rising sun could hide. “I... I am not allowed.”

 

“Nonsense,” Castiel scoffed. “While you’re with me, you have free will. You can do whatever you please,” he said.

 

Dean shifted in his spot, clearly not convinced.

 

“Unless you’d like me to take it off for you.”

 

Dean nodded, clearly relieved by the alternative. Castiel, who had suggested it more as a threat than anything else, flushed. Then Dean said, “Please,” and Castiel all but lost what was left of his mind.

 

“Fine,” he grumbled, rising out of bed and stomping over to Dean. He took the key Dean offered him and knelt down to slide it into the lock. Both the position and what he was doing were unsurprisingly intimate, and he couldn’t help but squirm at the thought of being so _close_ to Dean. He tried desperately to calm the shaking of his hands, but it didn’t quite work. He was well aware of Dean slowly hardening in the confines of the cage, and Dean’s muttered, “Sorry,” only served to ignite a fire within him.

 

Just as Castiel was about to give up, the mechanism slid into place and the cage began to open. “I can take it from here,” Dean said quietly.

 

“Quite,” Castiel answered, voice shaking as he rose from his knees.

 

That would be the last he’d see of Dean for several hours, as it turned out, as he was promptly summoned to breakfast nearly as soon as Dean had retreated into the washroom.

 

“I’ll be there shortly,” he told the maidservant who had delivered the summons as he began to dress in his day robes.

 

***

 

Breakfast that morning was awkward, to say the least. Gabriel wouldn’t stop grinning at him, and Castiel couldn’t stop thinking about Dean.

 

He was lost in a daydream, one in which Dean was a ‘damsel’ in distress and himself the brave and dashing prince who saved him, when Michael slammed his hand down on the table and stormed out. He cried out, startled, and brought a hand to his mouth as every remaining head at the table turned to look at him.

 

Smiling shyly, he turned back to his quail eggs and began to push them aimlessly around the plate. Once the collective attention of the room had been diverted from him, he whispered to Gabriel, “What was that about?”

 

“Forget it,” Gabriel sighed, shaking his head. “Just some petty fight he and Lucifer and having.” His brother looked incredibly old for his years, just for a brief moment, but then the gloomy look was gone as quickly as it had come. “Tell me about last night,” Gabriel coaxed, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

“There is nothing to tell,” Castiel answered, blushing.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re still a virgin,” Gabriel said, perhaps a little too loudly.

 

“Gabriel,” Castiel chided, looking around to make sure no one had heard. Satisfied that his secret was safe, he said, “I couldn’t take advantage of him, Gabe.”

 

“So you’re returning him?”

 

Castiel’s blush deepened. “Not exactly...”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabriel asked through a mouthful of food.

 

“I might have promised to look after him and told him he could be my companion,” Cas admitted.

 

Grinning, Gabriel said, “You’ve got a heart of gold, you know that, kid? I can’t imagine who you take after, if not for me.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t know Virtue if she knocked on your door in the deepest part of the night.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure I’d recognize her from the last time she was in my chambers,” Gabriel joked.

 

“You’re insufferable.”

 

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

 

At that, Castiel nodded. He did, indeed love Gabriel, more than any of his other brothers, more than any one else he’d ever known. There was no one in all the kingdoms of the world who understood him better, and he wished he could find the words to tell his brother just how much their bond meant to him, but now was neither the time nor the place, so he simply excused himself from the table and made his way back to his chambers, resolving to write Gabriel later.

 

***

 

When he returned, he found Dean, fully dressed, with his nose buried in an illustrated book of fairy tales.

 

“That’s one of my favorites, too,” Castiel greeted.

 

Dean startled, looking a lot like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing as Castiel wandered up to the bed and caressed the page Dean was on.

 

“What’s your favorite part so far?”

 

Dean hesitated. “The part with the wolf?” He sounded unsure, and Castiel frowned.

 

“There in no wolf in this story, Dean.” Then understanding dawned upon him, and he shook his head. “You can’t read, can you?”

 

“I can read just fine,” Dean shot back, angry. A moment later, he deflated. “I never learned,” he admitted.

 

“Let me teach you,” Castiel offered.

 

“Don’t you have better things to do than teaching some slave to read?”

 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Dean. You are my friend, not my slave. I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to tell you that.”

 

Dean was quiet for a moment. Then, “You left this morning without saying goodbye. I was worried.”

 

“About me?” Castiel asked, touched.

 

“No, that someone was going to come and take me back to-” Dean faltered.

 

“I made you a promise, Dean. I would sooner die than break it,” Castiel answered.

 

Their eyes met, and Dean smiled one of the first genuine smiles Cas had seen from him. “You said you were going to teach me something?”

 

“Indeed. Let’s get started.”


	3. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel shares his first kiss with Dean, a fight leads to an important revelation, and the young prince begins to see the world in a different light.

 

Teaching someone else to read turned out to be quite a bit more frustrating than Castiel had bargained for.

 

“No, Dean, that a makes an aaa sound, not an ah sound.”

 

“How am I supposed to tell the difference?” Dean grumbled, slamming his hand down on the book.

 

“It just takes practice,” Castiel gritted out, frustrated himself.

 

In that moment, Dean turned towards Castiel and found himself much closer to the other man than he had previously thought. They had pushed their chairs together to better facilitate learning and teaching, but now that the lesson was over they both seemed to be too close.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yeah?” Cas asked, breathless from sheer proximity to Dean, and from the way the other’s eyes looked so green in this light, and from the smell of his own favorite perfumed lotion on the other man.

 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Dean admitted, sounding incredibly shy and just a little vulnerable.

 

“I’d like that, Dean,” Castiel whispered.

 

Then Dean was leaning in, and in an instant, the other’s lips were on his, soft and chapped at the same time, gentle with just a hint of roughness as they brushed against his.

 

All too soon, it was over, and Dean was pulling away and standing up, eyes wide in panic. His chair clattered to the floor as he rushed into the nearest room of Castiel’s suite, which happened to be his closet.

 

Castiel found Dean huddled amongst his robes, shaking in the corner where Castiel kept his formal wear.

 

“Was I that bad?” Castiel whispered, half-joking, half-serious.

 

“No,” Dean said, a little too quickly. “No... It’s just... It was just a kiss, right? It didn’t mean anything.”

 

Castiel balled his hands into fists at his side. “You can’t just kiss me like that and say it doesn’t mean anything,” he seethed.

 

“Cas, I didn’t mean it like that... I just... I like you. I really do.”

 

“But?”

 

“But I don’t think I could handle if it you get it into your head that I’m just some whorish slave.”

 

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. “Dean... I know you didn’t get it the first time, or the second time, but listen to me, now. You are neither a slave nor a whore to me, nor will you ever be. You are... Special to me.”

 

Even in the darkness, Castiel could make out Dean’s blush. “Can we try that again?” He asked, all the shyness from earlier creeping back into his voice.

 

Castiel knelt down and crawled into the corner with Dean. “I’d like that,” he confessed. This time, he was the one who initiated the kiss. Though he wasn’t very experienced – after all, his first kiss had happened just minutes earlier – he was pleased to note that he could get Dean to make the most delicious of noises when he did that thing with his tongue, and that he could even draw out a whimper when he gently bit at the other’s lip.

 

Then the door to his room creaked open, and they both froze and sprung apart. “I’ll go see who it is,” Castiel murmured, smoothing out his robes. They were hopelessly wrinkled, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

 

Exiting the closet, Castiel found none other than Gabriel sprawled out across his bed.

 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?” He groused, moving to sit beside his brother.

 

“Just be glad it’s me,” Gabriel answered petulantly. “Wouldn’t want Michael to catch you in the closet with some slave boy.”

 

At that, Castiel hit him. Hard.

 

“What was that for?” Gabriel asked, outraged.

 

“He’s not a slave to me,” Castiel answered firmly.

 

Gabriel’s gaze softened. “Cas...” He took his younger brother’s hand in his own. “You really do have a good heart. A heart I don’t want to be see broken. So, please, don’t get too attached, and tell your...” Gabriel searched for the right word for a moment before settling unhappily upon, “Friend... That if he hurts you, I will end him.”

 

“Will do,” Castiel said, happy with this turn of events and glad that his brother was, as always, understanding of his needs and desires. “Now, if you don’t mind, Dean and I were rather in the middle of something...”

 

Gabriel sprung up, grinning. “I’ll be on my way, but remember. He hurts you, he’s over.” He made a chopping motion with his hand that, coupled with his smile, seemed rather sinister.

 

Castiel all but shoved him out the door at that point, before bolting the locks to his chambers and calling out to Dean. “You can come out of the closet, now.”

 

In a moment, Dean emerged, blinking at the sudden influx of light. “Who was that? And should I be worried?”

 

“If it had been Michael, we both would have been in trouble, but Gabriel is mostly harmless.”

 

“Wait, Michael as in _the_ Michael? You’re friends with the Crown Prince of Heaven?”

 

“Brothers, in fact,” Castiel grumbled. “I thought you knew.”

 

Dean shrugged. “I suppose I just hadn’t made the connection before. What’s he like in real life?”

 

“Annoying,” Castiel answered simply. “Unbearably so.”

 

Smiling, Dean looked into the far distance and let out a wistful sigh. “I had a brother once, too,” he whispered.

 

“Older?” Castiel hazarded to guess.

 

“Younger,” Dean corrected. “His name was Sammy.” The admission seemed to open a floodgate with him, and tears rushed unbidden to his eyes. “I miss him so much,” he mumbled.

 

“Dean,” Castiel said, at a loss for what else to say. He’d always been a little awkward in social situations, but he felt particularly useless right now. “Do you want a hug?” He asked lamely.

 

Dean shook his head bitterly, then turned away, wrapping his arms around himself as he did so.

 

Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder, but Dean wrenched himself away. “Don’t touch me,” he said, voice flat. “You have no idea. You... You live here, at your palace, in luxury, and you have no clue how hard it is to just scrape by on the other side of these walls. You stand by and watch as your subjects sell their sons and daughters into slavery, and you just don’t get it.”

 

“Dean, that’s not true,” Castiel protested, voice rising with every word. “I have seen your suffering, and the suffering of your people, and I am powerless to stop it. You think the youngest prince of a kingdom has a say? Well, think again, because I don’t. I have to sit at court and bite my tongue every day, and watch as my father and his eldest son do wretched things. Do you think that’s easy?”

 

Dean spun around, eyes wild and burning with a passion Castiel had seldom seen anywhere. “You listen here. You can come talk to me about what is hard and what is easy when you have to sell your own body to put food on your family’s table. You come tell me about what is right and what is wrong when you have suffered as I have, when you have watched your family come this close to freezing to death every winter, when you have gone hungry more nights than not, when you can’t sleep because you haven’t eaten in a week and you’re scared you might not wake up in the morning.”

 

Paling, Castiel sat down on the edge of his bed. “I had no idea...”

 

“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” Dean said, the fire in his eyes beginning to cool. “I’m sure they feed you a whole banquet of lies, and you eat every one as if it were the absolute truth.”

 

“Dean, that’s not fair-”

 

“But it’s the truth,” Dean interrupted. “And you know it.”

 

Castiel started fiddling with his hands. “I don’t know how to make this right,” he said softly, unable to meet Dean’s gaze. “Tell me how to make this right,” he said, raising his eyes to bore into Dean’s.

 

At that point, Dean threw his hands in the air and began to pace. “How am I supposed to know? I was a peasant, Cas. Now I’m a slave, and-”

  
“You’re not a slave to me,” Castiel interjected.

 

“Castiel,” Dean said, surprisingly gently. “I know you mean well when you say that, but outside that door, I am a slave to everyone else. I cannot exit these chambers without you, I can’t make choices of my own, and even if I were free... Even if I were free, I’d still be just a slave to the whims of your family. I’ve been a slave my entire life, Cas, if not in title than in practice.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Cas begged. “I-”

 

“What?” Dean’s voice had lost its gentle touch. “Can’t handle the truth?”

 

“I will fix this, Dean,” Castiel said, quiet but firm. “I swear to you, I will change things if it is at all in my capacity to do so. I’m a prince; I’m not entirely without power.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Cas, I’m not sure if things can be changed.”

 

“That’s because you’ve given up hope. I haven’t.”

 

“Your father is a tyrant,” Dean said slowly, fully aware he was treading upon thin ice. “And tyrants don’t change.”

 

“But Michael-”

 

“Will make the same mistakes your father is currently making,” Dean said with finality.

 

“Gabriel,” Castiel said. “He can help us. I know he can.”

 

Dean seemed reluctant, but Castiel could sense a faint glimmer of hope starting to ignite in his soul. “I hope you’re right, Cas,” was all he said.

 

“I know I am,” Castiel answered.

 

***

 

Castiel’s hope was all but shattered when Gabriel started laughing at the end of his proposal. “You want me to do what,” he snorted, before succumbing to another bout of laughter.

 

“Gabriel, I’m serious,” Castiel cried out, shaking his brother.

 

Gabriel sobered up quickly. “Look, Cas... Dean... I know you both mean well, but change... Long is the way, and hard, that leads unto change. I can’t just wave a magic wand and make our kingdom’s problems disappear. You know... Michael was different, once. I had hope for him, hope for this kingdom. But after Lucifer’s threats to the crown, well, nothing was really ever the same. Our brothers are too intent on destroying each other to listen to anyone else. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

 

Sinking into the chair adjacent to Gabriel’s, Castiel buried his face in his hands. “My eyes have been opened to such terrible things,” he whimpered. “How can I ever rest again, knowing how much my people are suffering?”

 

“It gets easier to look the other way every day, Cas,” Gabriel said consolingly.

 

“I don’t want it to ‘get easier,’” Castiel shouted. “I want to change things. To put food on the tables of our subjects, to give them firewood in the winter. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

 

Gabriel shifted uncomfortably, and Castiel knew from years of experience that there was something his brother wasn’t telling him. “What? What is it?”

 

Before speaking, Gabriel motioned for everyone to lean in closer. “If I tell you this, you have to swear on your lives never to tell another soul.” His gaze bored into theirs, and they share a look. Almost in unison, Dean and Castiel both nodded.

 

“I swear,” Castiel whispered.

 

“Me too,” Dean added.

 

Sighing, Gabriel said, “There is a sect of the population who have been fighting for change for many years, now. I joined three years ago, and we’ve made real progress, but it takes time for the ripple effects to reach everyone. With another prince on our side, who knows what we could accomplish? But Castiel... It’s dangerous. The sentence for being a member of Taskforce Freedom Warriors is death by crucifixion, for anyone, from the most lowly of slaves right up to the Crown Prince himself. I didn’t tell you because I was trying to protect you. You can still turn back, say no, go back to your blissful ignorance. In fact, I’d encourage you both to do so.”

 

“No,” Dean and Castiel said in unison.

 

“We want in,” Castiel explained for both of them.

 

Dean turned to Cas with a huge smile. The ember of hope within him had flared into a conflagration, and it was beautiful to see.

 

“How do we join?” Dean asked.

 

“Meet me at the stables in the deepest part of the night, when the moon has set and the sun has not yet risen. You’ll take your oath under starlight.”


	4. Under Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel take their vows to Taskforce Freedom Warriors. Later on, Castiel says some weighty words of his own.

 

“Do you swear to treat all men as equals, slave or free, rich or poor?”

 

“I do,” Castiel said solemnly. He was knelling before Gabriel in the rough hay that was spread across the floor of the stables, Dean by his side. He wanted to badly to reach out and take Dean’s hand in this moment, if only to communicate how much this meant to him. There would be time enough for that later, though.

 

“I do,” Dean echoed beside him.

 

“Do you promise to give yourself wholly to the cause of freeing the peoples of the Kingdom of Heaven from the rule of the cruel and capricious tyrant that sits on the throne?”

 

“I do,” Dean said.

 

Castiel hesitated. He had loved his father, once, and some vestige of that love had never dissipated. “I do,” he said after a long moment, trying to impart some of the strength with which Dean had spoken into his own words.

 

“Do you pledge your allegiance to Taskforce Freedom Warriors, until Death wrests you from this Earth?”

 

Shivering a bit at the turn of phrase, Castiel said, “I do,” followed quickly by Dean’s own vow of, “I do.”

 

“Then you are hereby initiated into our circle. Long live freedom.”

 

“Long live freedom,” Castiel and Dean repeated simultaneously.

 

There was the sound of a book slamming closed in the darkness, then Gabriel whispered, “Leave separately, and make your way back to your chambers quietly. Make sure you are unseen.” With that, he departed out the back door of the stable, leaving Castiel reeling in his absence. The weight of what he’d just done pressed down upon him, and it took him a moment to remember how to breathe.

 

“That just happened,” he said, a little giddy.

 

“Shh,” Dean admonished.

 

“I’ll leave first,” Castiel whispered, regaining some of the sense of urgency that Gabriel’s words had brought about. “You follow.”

 

Instead of risking speech, Dean simply felt for his hands in the darkness and squeezed. Castiel took that as assent, and made his way quietly and quietly out of the stables and back to his chambers, heart pounding with the fear of being caught. The magnitude of the danger he’d put himself and Dean in only hit him when he was alone, and by the time Dean arrived, he was all but hyperventilating.

 

“Cas?” Dean greeted. “What’s wrong?”

 

“We’re both going to die,” Castiel moaned. “What have we done?”

 

Dean didn’t speak for a long moment, so long, in fact, that Castiel was beginning to worry he wouldn’t speak at all. “We did the right thing. And if there is anything worth dying for, it’s this.”

 

Castiel nodded, clinging to the fragile hope Dean had thrown him. “You’re right,” he admitted, more to himself than Dean. “If we are killed, it’ll be for doing the right thing.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much, though,” Dean said, sidling up to Cas and letting out a massive yawn as he did so. “Gabriel’s been a member for years, and he’s still around,” he said sleepily.

 

Smiling at Dean’s antics, Castiel settled himself properly into bed. “Sleep now, Dean. It’s been a long night.”

 

“Night, Cas,” Dean mumbled.

 

“Goodnight, Dean.”

 

***

 

Castiel didn’t sleep much that night. He was far too tense to relax, even as Dean inched closer to him in his sleep. Before long, Cas found himself snug in Dean’s embrace, and he smiled. For a while, he pretended that things were different, that they were in another place and another time, in another world where he was an angel tasked with watching over Dean as he slept.

 

Soon enough, the morning sun was beginning its daily struggle to rise over the horizon, so Castiel gently disentangled himself from Dean and left to find a servant, who he told to bring breakfast into his room for Dean. He himself went to the dining room where his family always took their morning meals after leaving a brief note for Dean.

 

It was only once he’d arrived in the doorway that he remembered Dean couldn’t read, but by that point it was too late to turn back. He found Gabriel and Michael sitting on opposite ends of the table, both looking rather cross, and his heart leapt from his chest into his throat.

 

“Castiel,” they greeted as one, before turning to glare briefly at one another.

 

“How did you sleep?” Gabriel asked with a lascivious wink.

 

“Quite well, brother,” Castiel answered.

 

“How is your new slave working out?” Michael asked, the same hint of derision that was always there when he spoke to his youngest brother stronger than ever.

 

Castiel paled. “He is...” At Gabriel’s slight head shake, he settled on, “A good slave.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, and he regretted them the instant he said them.   


“Oh?” Michael raised a single eyebrow. “I’ve heard you haven’t used him even once. Nice things are wasted on you, Castiel.”

 

Inside, Castiel was seething with barely contained rage. He wanted so badly to speak his mind and to say that Dean was not a _thing_ to be _used_ , but rather a person to be cherished, but he held his tongue. “So you’ve said,” was all he could bring himself to say on the matter.

 

Michael harrumphed. “Ungrateful-” Thankfully, the rest of his words dried up when Lucifer appeared in the doorway, looking thoroughly debauched.

 

“I take it you’ve been whoring yourself out again,” Michael said with barely concealed contempt.

 

“You know me,” Lucifer bit back, just as viciously. “Never one to waste a nice thing.” He winked at Castiel, who flushed red. “If you don’t want that pleasure slave, I’d be happy to take him off your hands,” he said with a leer.

 

Castiel saw red. “He’s mine,” he spat.

 

Lucifer held up his hands in mock surrender. “Excuse me,” he hissed. “Wouldn’t want to break poor Cassie’s latest plaything.”

 

At that, Castiel couldn’t help himself. He stormed out of the room without another word, because he knew that if he spoke, it would just endanger them all. He didn’t know how Gabriel did it, and right now, he didn’t care to know. All he knew was that he wanted – no, needed – to see Dean, to ensure that he was all right and whole and safe and that no one had touched him.

 

He couldn’t help but think back to the time when he was younger, when Lucifer had somehow managed to break every toy he was able to acquire. The constant anger and loss he’d felt bubbled right back up to the surface, and by the time he slammed the door to his chambers shut, he was choking back tears.

 

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, all green-eyed concern. He was still in bed, and his robes had unwrapped themselves overnight, leaving his chest bare. “Did they find out already?” He asked, breath hitching.

  
Castiel quickly shook his head. “No, no. It’s just... Michael. And Lucifer. They are both so cruel,” he whimpered, prying himself away from the door and crawling into bed next to Dean. “I can’t stand either of them,” he confessed as he snuggled into Dean, splaying one hand against Dean’s firm chest.

 

Dean blushed so hard that it quickly spread to his chest, and Castiel smiled to himself despite his residual anger at Michael and Lucifer’s words.

 

“They are such monsters,” Cas whispered to Dean. “They are so blind to everyone and everything that is outside the bounds of their quarrel. They’ve been fighting for so long, now... Lucifer wants the crown, and Michael wants to ruin Lucifer but his ties in the court are too strong. They can’t kill each other, so they take all that extra anger out on the rest of us instead.”

 

“Cas, I... I wish I could change things for you.” Dean said, voice resonating with sympathy.

 

“I know, but I don’t think this is something that can be fixed,” Castiel answered, resigned. He sighed. “I just wish things were different...”

 

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Then, the silence was shattered by the sound of the door creaking open. Before them stood Michael, who calmly made his way into the room before shutting the door behind himself.

 

“The way you’ve been acting is not becoming of a prince of the Kingdom of Heaven, Castiel. I won’t have you taking after Lucifer.” He paused, taking a moment to glare at Dean. “Behave yourself, otherwise I will see to it that your latest toy is taken into the dungeons, at which point I will take great pleasure in breaking him myself. Do I make myself clear?”

 

For one brief, shining moment, Castiel considered defiance. Then Dean’s hand found his under the blanket, and he bowed to his better judgment. “Yes, brother,” he whispered meekly.

 

Michael nodded, straightened his robes, and was gone.

 

As soon as Michael had left, Dean began to untangle himself from the blankets, silent and tense.

 

“Dean?”

 

“I’m fine,” Dean said, unconvincingly.

 

“You’re clearly not. Do you care to tell me what’s wrong?” Castiel reached out, but Dean shrunk back.

 

“You’re asking me what’s _wrong_? After what just happened?”

 

“You’re right, stupid question... What can I do to make it better?”

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “You can’t fix everything, Cas. Just, make me a promise.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“Promise me you won’t forget about what we’ve spoken of, that you’ll remember your vows and that you’ll take the oath you made seriously. And... Spare me a thought every now and then, yeah?”

 

“Dean, I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Castiel said.

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dean admonished. “Just... Promise me. Promise me you won’t forget.”

 

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. He made his way to the door, peeked out, then quietly shut it once more. “Dean,” he said, turning back to the other man. “The past few days have been the most enlightening, exhilarating days of my life. You have opened my eyes, when I was blind and stumbling in the darkness. You showed me the truth, when I was content with lies. You led me to light, and I will never forget any of this. Not a single moment. So, yeah. I promise.”

 

Dean closed the distance between them in record time, and in a moment had Castiel pinned to the door and was kissing him hard. Cas kissed back, desperately, like he was a drowning man and Dean was the air he was yearning for. The kiss seared itself into his soul, and Castiel’s knees went weak. He was quite sure he would have crumpled to the floor if not for Dean’s strength, holding him up and supporting him.

 

“Dean,” Castiel breathed as they drew apart.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Castiel closed his eyes, his heart pounding. This was it. His moment. The moment of truth, just like in every fairytale he’d ever read. “I think I love you,” he whispered.

 

Dean’s hand came up to caress his cheek, and Castiel leaned into the touch, hungry for more. “Cas,” he said, just as softly, and Castiel’s heart started fluttering madly. “You’ve just been kissed _really_ thoroughly. That isn’t love you’re feeling, it’s lust.” With that, he drew away, leaving Castiel cold.

 

“But, Dean-”

 

“Shh,” Dean admonished him. “Love takes time, Cas. There is no such thing as love at first sight. It’s a fairytale.” And with that, he retreated into the washroom, leaving Castiel with a half broken heart and the very distinct impression that he was absolutely, completely, one hundred percent wrong.

 

***

 

In the washroom, safely alone once more, Dean splashed his face with cold water in an attempt to calm his frenetically beating heart. It wasn’t just that Castiel had said he loved him. This... This was nothing like when one of the village girls had said the same thing to him, half-jokingly, half-seductively in an attempt to get under his robes. Castiel had meant it, with all of his heart and soul and body and mind.

 

No one else in the entirety of the world had ever told Dean he was loved, save for Sammy, who had meant it in an entirely different way. And what had he done? He’d wasted it, squandered his chance, and told Castiel in not so many words that he had no idea what he was talking about.

 

“It’s just a crush,” Dean whispered to himself. “That’s all it is. Nothing more.”

 

He groaned, wishing he could calm the fluttering feeling in his stomach, the one that demanded he go out and kiss Castiel senseless again, right now, and tell him everything that he was feeling too. He tried to push it down, but it only grew stronger until it felt like an entire war fleet of butterflies was vying for dominance in his stomach.

 

He straightened his robes and stared at his reflection in the basin of water. “You had to go and fall in love with a prince,” he told himself bitterly. “You of all people.” Then, “You’re his slave,” he said with determination. “Nothing more.”

 

***

 

When Dean emerged from the washroom, something vital had changed between them. Castiel hadn’t moved from where Dean had pushed him up against the door, and he was still anchored there, as if reliving the moment in his mind could somehow bring it back.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yes, Master,” Dean answered, trying to keep his voice from hitching and failing.

  
Castiel’s face fell. “What did you just call me?”

  
“What I should have been calling you all along – Master.”

 

“Don’t you dare,” Castiel growled. “I reveal my heart to you and this is how you reward me? By mocking me?”

 

Dean took a step back. “I did not mean-”

 

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel whispered, eyes filling with tears.

 

“Don’t say that,” Dean pleaded, battling tears of his own as he looked away.

 

“Why? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t and-”

 

“Because I’m your slave,” Dean exploded. “And you’re a prince of the most powerful kingdom that ever was. Is that a good enough reason for you?”

 

Castiel’s face softened. “Dean. Dean. We took an oath, last night. To treat all men as equals, and yet you insist on calling yourself my slave. You are no such thing. You might be a slave to everyone else in this kingdom, but to me, you’re Dean. Just Dean. The Dean I love, and care for, and cherish.”

 

“How can you possibly know you love me?” Dean asked, a single tear sliding down his cheek. “You’ve barely known me three days.”

 

Smiling, Castiel stepped forward until he was well within the realm of Dean’s personal space. “I know because I am not the same person I was three nights ago. The things we’ve shared have changed me. You’ve changed me, for the better – for the better of everyone in this kingdom. I know because I’ve read enough fairytale romances to know that we are living our own, right here, right now. I know because love is one of those things you don’t have a clue about until it’s staring you right in the face, and well, here we are.” His eyes burned with a fire that Dean had seldom seen, and Dean found himself falling even harder.

 

“Cas, I-” Dean faltered. ‘I love you too’ was right on the tip of his tongue, but he found himself tripping upon the words. “Cas, I care for you, and I cherish you too. And I promise you, I feel the exact same way you’re feeling now, and as soon as I can, I will say those magic words back to you. But not here. Not now. And not yet.”

 

Castiel closed his eyes and breathed deeply of Dean. He couldn’t speak, didn’t want to. The moment was too fragile, and he was afraid it might shatter around them and leave them both empty. Instead, he stood up on tip-toe to kiss Dean. Their kiss was much softer this time, gentler, too, and it held all the promise of the words they hadn’t quite managed to say yet.

 

To Castiel, it was utterly perfect, just like the fairytale story of how they’d come to find love.


	5. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has an interesting dream, breakfast turns into an ordeal, and Gabriel and Cas have a brotherly moment in the palace library.

 

Sleeping together that night was an interesting affair. Castiel was exhausted from his sleepless night, and it wasn’t long before he was on the border between wakefulness and sleep, but there was one tiny problem.

 

“Dean?” Castiel asked, slurring his the word a bit as his sleep-deprived mind struggled to keep pace.

 

“Yeah?” Dean replied, breath ghosting against Castiel’s neck.

 

“You’re poking me,” Cas whispered, a smile coming unbidden to his face as he managed to find the humor in the situation.

 

A mortified blush spread across Dean’s entire upper half. He shifted a bit. “Better?”

 

Cas wrinkled his nose. “Not really,” he admitted. He giggled.

 

“Fine,” Dean bit out, clearly less amused than Castiel. Taking most of the blankets with him as he did so, he turned over in bed.

 

“Hey,” Cas protested. “Leave some blankets for me.”

 

After a short scuffle, the blanket situation was sorted out and they were both settled in, back to back.

 

Castiel was just about to fall asleep when Dean asked, “Cas?”

 

The prince in question simply moaned in response.

 

“Never mind,” Dean said after a short pause.

 

A while passed in which Castiel was caught in that half-delirious, dreamlike state right on the edge of unconsciousness. Then, so quietly he could barely make out the words, he heard Dean whisper, “I love you too.”

 

***

 

When Castiel awoke that morning, he was lying on his stomach in an empty bed. He groaned, and it was only when he tried to roll over that he noticed a warm, sticky wetness against his lower half. For a split second, he was worried he’d had a different kind of accident. Then realization dawned upon him and he groaned, praying to the Gods that Dean hadn’t been around to witness this mortifying development.

 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dean greeted, emerging from the washroom with a grin. “How did you sleep?”

 

“Good?” Castiel said, voice rising towards the end. “Good.” He balled up his fists in the blankets. “Did you-”

 

Dean tried and failed to hide a smile. “See you having a moment with your pillow there? Yeah. I wasn’t going to mention it, but...”

 

Castiel’s hands flew to cover his face. “Approximately badly did I humiliate myself?” He asked, voice muffled.

 

“Scale of one to ten? I’d say an eight and a half,” Dean said, much to Castiel’s despair. “But I promise not to hold it against you.”

 

Groaning, Castiel only sunk deeper into the blankets.

 

“Come on, Cas. It was kind of cute.”

 

“So not helping,” Castiel said, finally disentangling himself from the blankets and making his way to the washroom. Dean plodded along behind, to Castiel’s chagrin.

 

Castiel turned away as he washed up, blush rising as he fought not to think about the incident and failed. Prickling at the feeling of being watched, he half turned to Dean to say, “I’m perfectly capable of doing this without an audience.”

 

“I like watching you,” Dean admitted, a statement that only served to heighten Castiel’s blush.

 

Their eyes met and for a brief moment Cas thought that Dean was going to close the distance between them and kiss him again, but a knock on the door ruined the moment.

 

“You should answer it,” Cas decided.

 

“Me?” Dean asked, indignant.

 

“I’m not really in a state of attire to be answering doors right now, Dean,” Cas hissed back. He motioned towards the door. “Now, go. Distract whoever it is for a moment while I change.”

 

Dean huffed, but went off to do as he was told anyway. Castiel could hear muffled voices coming from the hallway as he made his way to his closet, then the sound of a door shutting.

 

“You’re being summoned to breakfast, Your Princelyness,” Dean called.

 

“Please don’t call me that,” Castiel groaned. He quickly changed into a new robe, pitying the servant who’d have to wash his night robes.

 

When he emerged from the closet, they shared a brief kiss before Castiel was whisked away by a maidservant to the dining hall.

 

***

 

Castiel was on his absolute best behavior that morning, which was a difficult feat with Gabriel whispering his best jokes in his ear all throughout the meal. It was all Castiel could do not to choke on his food when his brother told the one about the platypus.

 

“Castiel,” Michael called from the head of the table.

 

His hand, which was in the process of bringing a biteful of food to his mouth, froze in midair, and Castiel turned towards his older brother.

 

“Tell me. How is your new slave working out?” There was no trace of malice in Michael’s voice, but his eyes shone with a harsh light.

 

“As I said, brother, he is a good slave,” Castiel returned.

 

“Have you been... Enjoying him?” Michael prompted.

 

Castiel hesitated, wondering if this was a test and if so, what he could say to pass it. “We’ve kissed,” he blurted out, and immediately he could tell he’d said the wrong thing. Michael’s expression soured and Lucifer beside him looked like he’d just struck gold.

 

“So glad we wasted the court’s gold coins so our little brother could have a fairytale romance with a slave,” Lucifer snickered. “Aren’t you, Michael?”

 

Castiel flushed. Lucifer’s words hit a little too close to home, and he stood. “I am using him for his intended purpose, am I not?”

 

“Barely,” Lucifer spat.

  
“That is for me to decide, brother. He is _my_ slave.”

 

“Settle down, Castiel,” Michael admonished. “Remember our conversation.”

 

Mutely, Castiel sat back down in his chair. He had quite lost his appetite, and he felt vaguely like crying but it simply wouldn’t do to start to weep in front of Michael or Lucifer, let alone both of them. The last time he’d cried to someone other than Gabriel had been when he’d been five. Lucifer had broken his latest toy, and he’d gone, sobbing, to Michael’s door. His eldest brother had told him to grow up, an admonishment that had only served to make him cry harder.

 

Out of sight, Gabriel laid a hand on Castiel’s knee, which the younger of the two found slightly comforting. It wasn’t enough, though, to calm his rage nor to assuage his fears. It seemed that both Michael and Lucifer were discontent with him, and wanted to strike where it would hurt.

 

“Want me to tell another joke?” Gabriel whispered once the other’s attention had been diverted.

 

Castiel shook his head, silent still.

 

“Come on, you can’t let them get to you,” Gabriel chided. Then, “Smile, kid. If they see how much this is getting to you, they’re never gonna stop.”

 

Plastering on a fake smile, Castiel finished his breakfast without another word.

 

***

 

Gabriel found his little brother in the palace library, browsing through the books of fairytales he used to enjoy as a child.

 

“Hey, kiddo.”

 

“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel greeted without looking up.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Gabriel prodded, coming to sit down next to Castiel’s stack of books.

 

Castiel set down the book he was perusing and turned towards his brother. “Gabe...” His eyes started tearing up, and he wiped uselessly at them. “I don’t think I could handle it if either of them took him away from me.” He looked around to make sure no one else was in the library before whispering, “I _love_ him.”

 

“Well, I’d say ‘love’ is a strong word for someone you met a few days ago,” Gabriel answered.

 

Glowering, Castiel said, “Do not mock me. I know what I feel.”

 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Gabriel replied, “I’ll do my best to make sure Michael and Lucifer’s threats remain idle, but you’ve got to do your part too. Being a prince is like playing a role. You’ve got to pretend you don’t care, and sooner or later they’ll give up. As long as they keep getting a rise out of you, they’re never going to stop.”

 

Burying his face in his hands, Castiel whimpered, “I can’t help it.”

 

“You’ve got to try,” Gabriel said, patting Castiel’s back consolingly. There was a rustling noise, then Gabriel was prying Castiel’s hands from his face. “Here. I stole some sweets from the kitchen. I’m a very persuasive person when I want to be.”

 

Accepting gratefully, Castiel let the sweet melt on his tongue. He sighed in contentment once it had dissolved. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” Castiel asked, hoping to convey every bit of loving adoration he felt in that moment.

 

“I’d hope so. Your other brothers are total dicks,” Gabriel laughed.

 

“I mean it. I love you, Gabriel. More than you’ll ever know.”

 

A genuine smile from Gabriel was a rarity these days, and it was beautiful to see it now on his face. “And I you, brother.”


	6. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean learns the alphabet and later has a telling nightmare.

 

Castiel returned to his chambers with an armful of books only to find Dean pacing the room and wringing his hands.

 

Dean’s head shot up when Castiel entered. “Where the hell have you been?”

 

Taken aback by Dean’s anger, Castiel hesitated. “The library,” he said after a pause, slowly setting down his pile of books to demonstrate the validity of his claim.

 

“And you couldn’t have stopped by to tell me where you were going? Geez, Cas. Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Finally ceasing his circuit around the room, Dean turned to face Castiel. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

 

Castiel’s gaze softened. “Dean, it was not my intention to cause you any concern. I simply lost track of time. I was at the library getting you some books, I’ll have you know.”

 

Sighing, Dean threw his hands up. “Fine,” he said after a while. “You’re right; you don’t have to answer to me. I’m just your slave, what do I know?”

 

Cas stepped forward, closing the space between them in three long strides. “Dean, please don’t make this about that. I said no such thing. I will make sure to tell you where I’m going, in the future, so I don’t worry you unnecessarily.”

 

“Thank you,” Dean whispered, reaching out to take Castiel’s hands in his own. “I-” And there were those words again, right at the tip of his tongue. _I love you_. He’d been able to say them the night before, when Castiel had been sound asleep beside him, but now, in the light of day, they didn’t seem so close at hand. “I appreciate that,” he settled on, somewhat lamely.

 

“I know,” Castiel said, blue eyes smoldering. For a moment, Dean was convinced that Cas knew what he wasn’t saying, too, but then the prince drew away and he was left reeling. “Come on, let’s start your next lesson.”

 

***

 

Dean was a remarkably fast learner. It wasn’t just that, though. He was hungry for the knowledge, too, eager to please and excited to be finally learning to read.

 

“X, Y, Z,” Dean finished, then looked towards Cas for confirmation.

 

“Very nice, Dean. Not a single letter out of place.”

 

Beaming, Dean turned back to the book. “What’s next?”

 

Castiel smiled. “Now comes putting it all together.” He took a quill from his desk, dipped it in ink, and wrote in scrawling cursive, ‘The cat ran over hill and over dale’

 

Dean looked at the words in confusion for a moment, brow furrowed, before sounding out the sentence perfectly. “I don’t get it, though. What’s a dale?”

 

“I... I suppose I haven’t ever given it much thought. I suppose it’s the opposite of a hill.”

 

“A valley, then?”

 

“Yes, that seems about right.”

 

Dean grinned. “Tell me I’m awesome,” he joked.

 

“You are, Dean. I’m in awe of you every time I look at you,” Cas said with the upmost seriousness.

 

Blushing hard, Dean turned away. “Cas, you can’t just say things like that,” he mumbled.

 

“But it’s true,” Castiel countered, which only served to deepen Dean’s blush.

 

“You know, Sammy taught himself how to read... That’s worthy of awe. Me? I’m nothing.”

 

Castiel reached out to cup Dean’s face in his hands before speaking. “Dean, you are _everything_ to me,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Everything.”

 

Dean’s eyes shone in the candlelight as they filled with tears. “Cas, please,” he begged. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

 

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

 

“Because... Because the day you decide I’m unworthy is going to be the end of me.”

 

“Dean...” Cas felt his heart breaking for the fragile, frightened soul before him. “That day is never going to come. You are deserving of my love. You are more than worthy.”

 

Dean let his forehead rest against Castiel’s and for a long moment, they simply stared into each other’s eyes, searching for separate things.

 

“I love you,” Cas whispered, breaking the silence. “I always will.”

 

In lieu of answering, Dean swept Castiel into a gentle kiss, their lips meeting chastely as they made their silent promises to love and to cherish, to have and to hold.

 

***

 

Castiel jolted awake as the sound of a hoarse scream pierced the veil of his dreams.

 

“Go back to sleep,” was the first thing he heard once he was fully awake. It was Dean’s voice, but Castiel’s mind had gone to all manner of horrible places in the few seconds since he’d been awake and he doubted he could go back to sleep if he wanted to.

 

“Dean,” Cas said. “What happened? I heard you cry out.”

 

The darkness seemed to stretch out between them as the silence grew weightier. “I had a nightmare,” Dean confessed after a long moment.

 

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel whispered, closing the distance between them to wrap Dean in a sloppy hug. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Dean tensed as if he hadn’t been expecting the question, and it took Castiel rubbing gentle circles across his back to get him to relax. “I... It was about my father.”

 

Cas made a sound of acknowledgement, hoping Dean would elaborate, but the silence between them was evidence enough that the other didn’t want to do so.

 

“It’s ok, Dean,” Cas soothed. “It’s over, now. It was just a dream.”

 

Dean didn’t speak for so long that Castiel was beginning to think he’d fallen asleep again. “In the dream,” Dean started, voice faltering. “He sold me.”

 

Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. “Dean-”

 

“And then I woke up and-” Dean’s voice trailed off into the darkness.

 

“Dean, I am _so_ sorry,” Castiel murmured, closing his eyes against the onslaught of tears. He wanted so badly to say more, to make promises he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep just for the sake of making the other feel better, to ask Dean if he was happy here, but now wasn’t the time for any of that, so he let the quiet sound of his breathing speak for him as he held onto Dean and laid his head down upon the larger man’s chest.

 

Wanting to say more but thinking better of it, Dean closed his eyes and tried his best to fall asleep again. When sleep did come to him, it was fitful, and riddled with dreams that had him waking up with the distinct feeling him he’d had a premonition of some nightmarish future.

 

And so began that fateful day they’d later look upon as the one which set the wheels of their Fate into motion.


	7. Morning's Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean accidentally breaks something. Michael ensures he'll pay for his mistake.

The sound of something shattering was what awoke Castiel in the morning light. He groaned, threw a hand over his eyes, and snuggled back into his warm blankets. He was usually a morning person, or at least he had been, until he’d met Dean. It turned out to be unsurprisingly difficult for two to sleep in a relatively narrow bed meant for one. He’d been meaning to call for a cot for Dean until he could commission a larger bed frame from one of the kingdom’s craftsmen, but he hadn’t quite gotten around to it.

 

The muffled sound of cursing was what finally brought him to full awareness, and he blinked at Dean. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice rough with sleep.

 

“I might have accidentally broken your vase,” Dean replied, voice trembling. “Cas, I am so sorry, I-”

 

“It’s fine,” Castiel answered. “I just can’t believe you woke me up over a vase.”

 

That earned him a grin from Dean. “Technically, I think it was the vase breaking that woke you up.”

 

His door swung open to reveal none other than Michael. Dean fell to one knee and made the sign of the cross, their kingdom’s insignia, across his chest, while Castiel rolled his eyes and sat up in bed.

 

“Ah, look at my little brother,” Michael said, voice dripping with insincerity. “Learning the art of sleeping in, I see.”

 

“Knocking is an art, too,” Castiel grumbled under his breath.

 

Eyes flashing, Michael said, “You are late for breakfast, brother. I was concerned, so I decided to pay you a visit. I arrive and I find you still in your bed, with your slave cleaning up what’s left of a priceless vase. Tell me, how did this accident occur?”

 

Both Dean and Castiel paled. “I broke it,” Castiel blurted. “I ordered Dean to clean it up.”

 

“Lying is a sin, Castiel,” Michael hissed. “You’ve quite clearly just woken up and did not have time enough this morning to break your vase.” Pausing for effect, Michael smiled a sinister little smile. “He will be punished.”

 

At that, Castiel sprang out of bed. “He is my slave, and I will decide his punishment,” he snarled.

 

Michael rocked back on his heels, and seemed to consider for a moment. “You’re right, brother. You should punish him. Bring him to the pillories at high noon. You’ll deliver a sentence of twenty-five lashes to demonstrate the price of disobedience to the other slaves and servants of the kingdom.”

 

“You can’t make me do that,” Castiel protested. “I refuse.”

 

“Thirty,” Michael said simply.

 

Castiel’s heart dropped. “Please, brother,” he begged. It was his turn to drop to his knees. “Don’t make me do this.”

 

“Get up, your groveling is unfitting for someone of your station.” When Castiel didn’t move, Michael just shook his head, smiled wider, and said, “Thirty-five.”

 

Eyes widening, Castiel hastened to rise. He looked towards Dean, who didn’t meet his gaze. “I... I...” He was floundering for words, and he knew that the longer he hesitated the more Michael would force him to hurt Dean. “I’ll do it,” he finally said, eyes fluttering closed in resignation.

 

“Pity,” Michael said. “I was hoping to get to forty.” With that, he was gone, leaving Dean and Castiel to pick up the pieces of the broken vase and their shattered hearts.

 

***

 

“Dean, I am so, so sorry,” Castiel said for what had to be the twelfth time that day.

 

“Cas, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t blame you?” Dean answered. “Now, come on. You were telling me about the different ‘e’ sounds?” He prompted.

 

“How can you possibly expect either of us to focus on anything right now?” Castiel exploded.

 

Dean shrunk back slightly. “It’s a distraction, Cas,” he said after a while. “Let me distract you.”

 

“You’re the one being whipped,” Castiel cried.

 

Grimacing, Dean said, “Thanks for reminding me.”

 

Castiel cringed. “I’m so-”

 

“If you say you’re sorry one more time...” Dean warned.

 

“Fine. I won’t say it. But how do you ever expect me to look you in the eyes after this? How do you expect me to live with myself, after knowing I’ve hurt you?”

 

“This isn’t your fault, Cas. I-” Dean was interrupted by the door to Castiel’s chambers opening. Before entering, Gabriel looked left and right to make sure he remained unseen.

 

“I heard what happened,” Gabriel said as he closed the door behind them.

 

Castiel stood, hope blooming in his chest. “Can you help us?”

 

Gabriel’s features twisted, and he looked away, which was answer enough. “I’m as powerless as the two of you when it comes to this,” he admitted. “I tried to talk Michael out of punishing Dean, and he was listening, but then Lucifer showed up and took our side-”

 

“Wait, Lucifer? Taking our side?” Castiel asked, incredulous.

 

Groaning, Gabriel began to pace. “He was playing Michael,” he sighed. “He wants to see Dean whipped as badly as the Crown Prince. He only took our side because he knew it’d just make Michael more determined to do this.”

 

Castiel sank back down into his chair and took Dean’s hand. “What do we do?” Cas asked.

 

Dean, who had been silent up until that point, spoke. “You don’t do anything, Cas,” he said quietly. “You can’t fix everything, and I don’t want to put either of you in danger for my sake. I-” His voice broke. “It’s only thirty-five lashes. I’ve had worse.”

 

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right,” Gabriel said, sounding incredibly tired. “I have the palace’s best healers on standby for... For afterwards,” he finished, looking like he was about to be sick. “It was the least I could do. Well, that and the _only_ thing I could do.”

 

Castiel’s expression mirrored his brother’s. “Gabriel-”

 

“I shouldn’t be here,” Gabriel said, shaking himself. “I don’t want to give Michael any more ammunition to use against us.” Straightening himself, he nodded at both of them in turn. “Cas. Dean.” He smiled a half-smile. “Be brave.”

 

With that, Dean and Castiel found themselves summarily alone once more. Now, they only had to wait.

 

***

 

When Castiel saw him next, Gabriel was grim-faced, posture slightly hunched as if in defeat. Cas fell into his arms, sobbing. “Don’t make me do this,” he begged.

 

“It’s not up to me, kiddo,” Gabriel answered softly. “I’m so sorry; I can’t fix this one.” He tightened his hold on Cas for a moment, before reaching up to hold his little brother at arm’s length. “You’re going to need to be incredibly strong, OK? This will be a thousand times worse if you break down in the middle. You can cry and scream and rant and rave the second it’s over.”

 

Castiel’s eyes searched Gabriel’s for a solution that wouldn’t involve going through with what he was about to do. “Gabe, how can I be strong, when...” His voice trailed off.

 

“For Dean. Don’t be strong for me. Be strong for him.” Gabriel broke his gaze and took a step back, leaving Castiel feeling barren and alone. “Put yourself in his shoes. He’s going to be in a lot of pain, and yeah, it’s gonna feel like a betrayal while it’s happening, which is why he needs you not be a wreck. He’s going to be feeling enough shame as it is without the added guilt of knowing you’re suffering right along with him.”

 

Nodding, Castiel began to steel himself. This was happening. There was no way around it. Even as he felt the feeble hope he’d been clinging to begin to wither and die, he managed to smile at Gabriel. “It’s going to be ok, brother,” he whispered, more to convince himself than Gabriel.

 

Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re right. It is. Now, come on. Chin up. It’s almost time.”


	8. The Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is punished. Castiel and Gabriel make plans to win over the court with a radical new idea.

 The sun was hovering hot and heavy and its apex as Gabriel led Castiel out to meet Dean, who was chained to the central pillory.

 

A lump formed in Castiel’s throat at the sight of the man he loved looking so damn broken. The air around him reeked of defeat and shame and self-loathing, and Castiel would have done anything to rush to his side and make everything better.

 

A whip was placed in his hand, and Castiel frowned at the heft of it. An officer led him into place behind Dean, and said in clipped tones, “Begin.”

 

Castiel closed his eyes and raised the whip up to strike. It was only when he heard the sound of muffled snickering that he opened his eyes. “Is something funny, brother?” he sneered, forgetting for a moment about propriety and politeness.

 

Michael made a sweeping motion with his hand and the officer took the whip from his now limp hold. “You were actually going to do it,” he laughed, doubling over like someone had just told him the joke of the century. “A true prince, Castiel,” Michael continued, “Does not get his hands dirty.”

 

All but collapsing with relief, Castiel vaguely registered Gabriel coming up to him and leading him away, towards the viewing platform over the pounding in his head. He was fully aware of the tears streaming silently down his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to stop them.

 

Lucifer, for his part, looked vaguely disappointed at the turn of events. “Can we please get started already? Some of us have lives,” he drawled with a pointed glare at Michael.

 

“Officer Branbury, please give the slave forty lashes,” Michael said.

 

“I thought you said thirty-five,” Castiel shouted at him, despite Gabriel squeezing his arm and against his better judgment.

 

Michael stalked up to him. “Go on, brother. Test me again, and I’ll make it fifty.” He took Castiel’s chin in his hands. “Besides, round numbers make me ever so happy.”

 

It took every last shred of Castiel’s fraying self-control not to spit in his stupid brother’s insufferable face. He simply looked away, mutely mutinous, and willed himself to hold his tongue.

 

With a clap from Michael, the whipping began in earnest. A startled Dean cried out at the first one, and Gabriel had to physically restrain Castiel from rushing forward.

 

Dean was remarkably quiet up until the half-way mark. That’s when something soft and vital broke within him and he started to sob, softly at first, then louder and louder until Cas was sure his cries would rend the sky and the Earth asunder. Each one tore at him, as if he were the one being whipped instead of the other way around.

 

“Forty,” the officer said, bringing the whip down one last time. Dean sagged forward, and Castiel would have run to his side if not for Gabriel’s bruising hold on him.

 

“Come with me,” Gabriel whispered into Castiel’s ear before all but picking him up and forcing him to move.

 

Wordlessly, Castiel followed.

 

***

 

As soon as they were out of sight, Castiel shrugged out of Gabriel’s hold and cornered him. “Did you know this would happen?”

 

Looking incredibly guilty, Gabriel said, “I might have suspected.”

 

“Then why the _hell_ didn’t you tell me?” Cas hissed.

 

“Hope is a dangerous thing, Cas. It can be ruinous. I didn’t want to give you hope only to have it torn away. Surely, you can understand that.”

 

Castiel deflated. “You’re right. It would have been cruel of you to give me that hope if you weren’t absolutely sure.” He sighed. “Where are we going?”

 

“The medical rooms. Michael won’t follow us there; we can talk.” Gabriel tapped his lips with one finger to give Cas an idea of what kind of talking they’d be doing, before taking his little brother’s hand and leading him further into the labyrinth that was their palace underground.

 

***

 

“Dean!” Cas was at the other’s side in an instant as soon as they found the right room.

 

“Cas,” Dean greeted with a tiny smile despite the fact that his back felt like it was on fire. “I- I’m sorry about your vase.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “If you think I care about that stupid vase, you’re very sorely mistaken,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to Dean’s forehead.

 

“Ahem.” It was only then that Cas realized they weren’t alone. There were two medics in the room as well, one who was holding a jar of salve and the other who didn’t seem to be doing much of anything other than glowering in the corner.

 

“This is going to sting,” the doctor with the jar said by way of warning before stepping forward and beginning the process of smearing the salve across Dean’s back.

 

Dean whimpered and gritted his teeth against the feeling of the healing ointment making its way into the crevices of his wounds. The doctor didn’t get far before Dean began to cry again, soft little sobs that worked their way into Castiel’s soul, burning all the way. The prince reached out to hold Dean’s hand, but he knew it was only a small comfort.

 

“Dean, I am so sorry this happened,” he whispered, his own eyes flooding with tears he’d absolutely refuse to shed once he was alone again, or with Gabriel, or anywhere Dean couldn’t see.

 

“Hey, don’t cry,” Dean said softly, even through his own tears. “I’ll be all right. Good as new. The doctors say it won’t even scar.”

 

At that point, the glowering doctor spoke up. “I said it may or may not scar. There are no guarantees.”

 

Castiel turned to glare at him. “Out,” he said through clenched teeth. “Both of you, out.” He moved to take the jar of salve. “I started this; I’ll finish it too.”

 

They were all silent for a moment as Castiel went about finishing the doctor’s work, then Dean said, “I’m glad it wasn’t you,” so quietly that Cas could barely make out the words.

 

“Yeah, me too,” Castiel answered, feeling hollowed out inside from the events of the day. He could only imagine how Dean felt after his ordeal. “I will make this right, Dean,” he said after a pause, though the words sounded as empty as he felt.

 

“You want to make this right?” Gabriel asked, situating himself against the door.

 

“Don’t make a mockery of my words, brother,” Castiel replied, a bitter feeling settling firmly in the pit of his stomach.

 

“I would never,” Gabriel answered. “I’m asking if you have what it takes to change things around here, because I’ve been making plans for a while now, but I need your help to see them through.”

 

Hope flared almost painfully bright within Cas. “Are you talking about-”

 

“Yes, I am,” Gabriel interrupted. “The Taskforce is a formidable force outside these walls, but it’s up to us to exact change in the palace by winning over the court.”

 

“The court?” Castiel parroted. “What chance do we have at winning over the _court_?”

 

“A better chance than we had a week ago. Think about it,” Gabriel said, fidgeting with nervous energy. Castiel could tell that if he weren’t so keen on guarding the door, he’d be pacing. “Two against two. We’re finally evenly matched against Michael and Lucifer.”

 

“I’d hardly call that an even match,” Castiel scoffed.

 

“Chances are it’s going to go down something like this: You are I will be playing the court, which forces our brothers into a tricky position. Lucifer would never take Michael’s side on any matter, and vise versa. That’s what we’re counting on, at least. That’ll force their respective hands, and my guess is that good old Luci is going to side with us. He’d still be insufferable, but at least he’d be an ally.”

 

“That’s a lot of ‘if’s, Gabriel,” Dean said.

 

Gabriel waved him off. “The real penny in the air is whether the court is going to buy what we’ll be selling.”

 

“And if they don’t?” Castiel asked, fearing the answer.

 

Gabriel shrugged. “Then at least we’ll have died trying.” He shared a significant look with his brother. “You’re both going to need to be prepared to die for this cause. Even if everything goes our way, the very best we can hope for is a coup that’ll tip the balance of power away from the ruling family – our family. Best case-scenario, it’ll be a bloodless one, but there is no guarantee.”

 

Castiel was silent for a moment while he finished applying the salve. “I am ready,” he said firmly.

 

“I’ve been ready,” Dean added with a half-smile.

 

“I was born ready,” Gabriel said, grinning. He let the words hang in the air for a moment before saying, “The court meets tomorrow. Follow my lead. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see you alone before then, so let me just say you’ve both been so brave, and I’m proud of you both. Stay strong.” With that, he was gone.

 

“Cas?” Dean asked after a moment.

 

  
Castiel, who had been focused on the door, turned his attention to Dean. “Yes, my love?”

 

Blushing, Dean said, “I just want you to know... I’m glad I met you. Being with you has been one of the best parts of my life.”

 

Cas smiled. “I love you, too, Dean.”

 

Grateful that Cas understood the thing he’d left unspoken, Dean closed his eyes and let the pain rock him to sleep.


	9. Moment of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Gabriel present their ideas to the court.

 

When Dean awoke in Castiel’s bed the next morning, he was alone and in agony.

 

It was a while before he was able to muster the strength to sit up, and when he did, his back started burning, but he fought through the pain.

 

There was a note waiting on the desk for him, and while Dean couldn’t read most of it, he could make out the bare bones of it – Cas was at breakfast, and may or may not be able to return before the court met. It ended with an ‘I love you,’ so Dean smiled and clutched it to his chest.

 

“I love you too, Cas,” he whispered to the empty room, resigning himself for a long day of waiting and worrying.

 

***

 

Breakfast that morning was torture.

 

“How is your little pet?” Lucifer asked the moment he entered the dining hall.

 

“He’s fine,” Castiel bit out.

 

“I don’t know, he looked pretty broken last time I saw him,” Lucifer mused.

 

“He’s as well as is to be expected,” Cas amended.

 

“Please inform him I will not be so lenient about future transgressions,” Michael said over the rim of his coffee cup.

 

“Lenient? You think forty lashes is _leniency_?” Castiel ground out.

 

“Perhaps,” Michael mused, “I will have to begin to punish him for your transgressions as well.”

 

Castiel paled. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, brother,” he said as meekly as he could manage. He looked towards Gabriel, who gave him a faint shake of his head.

 

“See to it that you behave, Castiel. The Kingdom of Heaven has had its best scholars studying the art of pain for hundreds of years. I won’t hesitate to use that knowledge against your slave if I don’t see some kind of improvement in your behavior.”

 

“Yes, brother,” Castiel said, hating the taste of the words. He’d never been so angry at his eldest brother as he was in that moment, and he thought to himself that Michael had finally done something that he couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive.

 

Lucifer rubbed his hands together. “This is getting good,” he crooned.

 

“If only you were so easy to sway, _brother_ ,” Michael spat.

 

“I think you’ll find that one so well versed in the arts of persuasion is not easily coerced themselves. Brother.” With that, Lucifer left the table and made his way out of the room.

 

“The court meets soon, Lucifer. Don’t be late,” Michael called out after him.

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lucifer answered.

 

***

 

It was Gabriel’s turn to read the minutes, and Castiel’s heart started pounding as soon as he stood. They’d met briefly, right before the court assembled, and Gabriel had told him they’d be safe so long as they were in the presence of the court. Once the other nobles were gone, though, all bets were off.

 

“Lords and ladies of the court,” Gabriel began. “Today, we have important matters to discuss. My brothers and I have decided to bring to your attention a motion concerning our subjects.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Michael shift uncomfortably. This wasn’t part of the script.

 

“It has come to light that our people are discontent. Unrest spreads daily,” Gabriel continued. “In order to curb the tide of dissent, we have decided to unveil a charitable program for citizens less fortunate then ourselves.” A few mummers of disapproval made their way around the room. “It is our duty as nobility to take care of the citizenry, to provide for their needs in times of economic distress, and to act in the interest of the peasants who work to feed, clothe, and entertain us.”

 

The mummers grew louder, and Cas could tell that Gabriel was losing ground. He stood, and the room fell silent.

 

“Lords and ladies of the court,” Castiel spoke, looking up each and every face before continuing. “We are acting partly in self interest. The farmers and the workers, the servants and the slaves, vastly outnumber ourselves. A happy population ensures our security. We can sleep safely in our beds at night without fear of an uprising.” This time, murmurs of assent reverberated around the room. “I have seen the suffering of our people, and we have a sacred duty to protect them, and protect ourselves in turn.”

 

It was more than Castiel had spoken in front of the court in a long, long time. He was used to sitting mutely by Michael’s side, biting his tongue and speaking only if he was spoken too. Now, though... Now, he was being heard, and his voice mattered.

 

“My brother speaks the truth,” Gabriel intoned. Michael was growing redder by the second, and Castiel feared the consequences for himself, his brother, and Dean once this was all over. It would be worth it, though, if only they could persuade the court to back their plan. “The Kingdom of Heaven has vast stores of gold. For too long, we have hoarded it and kept it locked away in our vaults. I propose that we use just a fraction of it for the benefit of us all. Who among you will stand with us as we bring glory and honor to our kingdom?”

 

At first, only a smattering of hands went up, and Castiel’s heart plummeted. Then, slowly but surely, more hands rose, then more, until all but a few dissenters remained with their hands resolutely folded in their laps.

 

One of those dissenters was Lord Zachariah. As he stood, the hands went back into their owner’s laps. “I’d like to hear what the Crown Prince has to say about this,” he said. “Surely, our future king must have a say in this... Momentous occasion.”

 

Michael didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, “I think what my brothers said was very wise,” he spoke, clearly hating every word but unable to find fault with their argument without damaging his own position.

 

Gabriel and Castiel shared a triumphant look. Victory was close at hand.

 

Then Lucifer stood, a winning smile on his face. “Lords and Ladies of the court. Please consider this, as you cast your vote. A happy population is a dangerous population. Citizens who are warm and well-fed have time to think, and thinking invariably leads to the greatest threat to our way of life – notions of democracy, that scourge which has weakened the ruling families in many surrounding kingdoms. I’d like to make a counter-proposal – a higher tax. It is the only way to keep our people in line.”

 

Castiel swallowed hard. Gabriel’s plan was slowly falling apart. He stood once more. “Brother, would you have our people starve? Would you have them freeze? Would you rather they suffer the indignities of being forced to sell their children into slavery?” He took a deep breath. “Lords and Ladies of the court. A tax would bring further ruin to our people. You have heard all of my brothers speak. You have heard our pleas. The Crown Prince himself, your future king, supports our charitable proposal. Do not vote in favor of higher taxes. Vote in favor of your people.”

 

Gabriel stood as Castiel took his seat. “Lords and Ladies of the court. Please raise your hands once more if you are in favor of helping our people.”

 

Fewer hands went up than before, but the majority was clear. The court was on their side.

 

***

 

“We did it,” Castiel laughed as he entered his chambers, Gabriel in tow. “We actually did it.” He swept Dean into a hug, realizing too late that it was a mistake to go anywhere near Dean’s back. The other man cried out, and Cas sprung back. “Dean! I am so sorry; I forgot. I-”

 

“It’s OK, Cas,” Dean said with a grimace. “Tell me about what happened. I want to hear everything.”

 

“We’re winning, kiddo. That’s what’s happening,” Gabriel said. “We made a case for wealth distribution, and the court voted in our favor. I never thought I’d see the day.”

 

Just then, the door flew open, revealing a livid Michael. “I knew I’d find you all here, collaborating on your little ‘victory,’” he seethed. “It’s the slave, isn’t it? He’s corrupted you all.”

 

Castiel positioned himself in front of Dean. “His name is Dean,” Castiel said, voice sharp as a sword. “And, yes, perhaps he opened my eyes, but I’ve thought you and your policies abhorrent for years.”

 

“And Gabriel?” Michael asked, turning to his other brother. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

“I think Cas pretty much summed it up,” Gabriel said. “Come on, Michael. You’ve got to know what you’re doing is wrong.” He stalked towards Michael, shaking one finger at his brother. “You were different, once. Kinder. The Michael I knew when I was little would have been the one proposing this motion. The Michael I knew-”

 

“The Michael you knew is dead,” Michael sneered. “I’m what’s left, and I promise you, I will ruin all of you if you don’t back down.”

 

“I’d like to see you try,” Gabriel said bitterly.

 

“Then watch me,” Michael answered. With that ominous warning, he was gone.

 

“I’d say we’re seven kinds of screwed,” Dean said once the Crown Prince had left, lowering himself onto the bed.

 

“I hate to agree with Dean on this matter, but...” Cas let his voice trail off. “Any plans, Gabe?”

 

Sighing, Gabriel sank down to the floor. “None, as of yet.”

 

“We’ll think of something,” Castiel said, hoping, praying that he was right.


	10. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean share an awkward moment, Lucifer says some horrible things at breakfast, and Michael pays Dean a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching the end of the story, so stay tuned!

Sleep didn’t come easy that night for either of them.

 

Michael’s threat still hung like the Sword of Damocles over their heads, and while the day’s proceedings had tired out Castiel, he was just as wired as he was exhausted.

 

“I can’t fall asleep,” Cas complained, hoping Dean was in a similar predicament.

 

“Me neither,” Dean answered, though he was tense for an entirely different reason.

 

Dean had left a space between them, so Castiel closed it, and he smiled as he snuggled into Dean. “I can see why _you_ can’t sleep,” he teased. Something occurred to him that made his heart beat faster. “Do you... Want some help with that?”

 

Dean’s breath hitched, “Cas, I-” He faltered. “No, I’m good,” he finally said, voice shaking.

 

“Hmm.” Castiel turned over to face Dean, and let his hands wander to Dean’s hip. He could feel himself hardening against Dean’s hip, and if Dean’s ragged breathing was anything to go by, the other man could feel it too.

 

“Cas,” Dean breathed.

 

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas answered, allowing his hands to trail down the front of Dean’s robes.

 

“Cas, please,” Dean pleaded. He reached out to stop Castiel’s wandering hands. “Don’t do this. Not yet.”

 

“Dean?” Castiel asked, sounding so betrayed that Dean had to close his eyes.

 

“Cas, you have no fucking idea how much I want you right now, but it’s too soon. I-” His voice hitched. “I respect you too much to let you do this.”

 

“Dean, I’m ready. I know you think it’s too soon, but I’m ready.” Castiel sought Dean’s lips in the dark, but Dean turned away and his kiss landed upon Dean’s neck instead, drawing a muted whimper from him.

 

“I don’t think I am,” Dean said honestly. “I... I’m going to go to the washroom, now.”

 

“I think that would be for the best,” Castiel answered, a little disappointed and rather frustrated.

 

After a short pause, Dean left. Castiel listened to his soft footfalls as he made his way to the washroom and imagined Dean shifting his robes in the darkness behind the door. He heard Dean’s breath start to quicken, maddeningly clearly in the still of the night. The temptation to touch himself grew irresistible, and he quietly succumbed, sliding his hand down his robes and stoking the fire Dean had ignited in him until he came, biting his lip and bucking into his hand.

 

He got out of bed and made his way to the washroom, arriving just as Dean emerged. The moon was shining, pale yet powerful, and the night sky was clear and star-studded so it wasn’t difficult to see one another. “Where are you going?” Dean asked.

 

“Washroom,” Cas answered simply.

 

“Oh.”

 

Cas could make out Dean’s grin in the low light, and he gave Dean a soft smile of his own before retreating into the other room.

 

Once they were both settled back in bed, Dean gifted Cas with a lingering kiss that seemed to resonate in Castiel’s very soul. “Thank you,” he said once they had parted.

 

“For what?” Dean asked, perplexed.

 

Cas smiled. “For being you.”

 

That earned him another kiss, and even if it was only for that moment, all was right in Castiel’s world. He fell asleep to dreams of Dean and fairytale endings and happily-ever-after’s.

 

***

 

Castiel didn’t get a summons for breakfast the next morning, so he left Dean to sleep and wandered down to the dining hall.

 

Lucifer and Gabriel were there, glaring at one another like their lives depended upon it, but Michael was conspicuously absent.

 

“Hello, little brother,” Lucifer greeted with more derision than usual.

 

“Where’s Michael?” Castiel asked without saying hello.

 

Rolling his eyes, Lucifer responded, “Plotting to make all of our lives more difficult, I assume. Thanks to you two, he’s throwing the temper tantrum of the millennium.”

 

“He probably just slept in,” Gabriel interjected.

 

“You wish,” Lucifer snorted. “When did you two become champions of the people, anyway? Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “Let me guess. Cassie here must’ve let his lover-boy turn him into some sort of freedom fighter, but you, Gabe? I can’t fathom when you turned into a traitor.”

 

Gabriel’s expression soured. “The moment I decided to open my eyes and take a walk outside the palace gates. When was the last time you left the palace to go somewhere that wasn’t the whorehouse, huh, Lucifer?”

 

“Just last week,” Lucifer said with a slick smile. “I visited the finest opium den in the kingdom. Your point?”

 

“My point,” Gabriel ground out, “is that you are so blind to anything that isn’t the crown that you can’t see anything anymore. You are so consumed with envy and hatred towards Michael that you can’t see that our people are suffering, and starving, and struggling to survive.”

 

“I see _perfectly_ , brother,” Lucifer spat.

 

“If you see so clearly, then look at me,” Gabriel demanded. Lucifer did. “Look at me, and tell you what you see,” Gabriel pleaded, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, Lucifer would see him as he was – the brother he’d loved, as the man he’d raised, as the person who’d had the shoulder the task of raising Castiel, as the prince who was trying to make a better future for their kingdom.

 

Slowly, Lucifer nodded. “I see you, Gabriel. I know where your heart truly lies. You think I don’t know about your clandestine meetings and starlit oaths?” Gabriel paled, and Lucifer smiled. “You know, I look at you, and I see the brother I raised, the brother I loved. But you know what else I see? I see abject failure, and cowardice, and a whole lot of self-loathing. It sickens me, Gabriel. And you... You _disappoint_ me.”

 

Gabriel slowly sunk back into his chair, expression blank. Lucifer rose to leave.

 

“You know,” Lucifer said in parting, “it felt really good to get that off my chest.”

 

“Gabe?” Cas asked as gently as he could manage once their brother had left. “Are you all right?”

 

Giving Cas his best smile despite the tears gathering in his eyes, Gabriel said, “Yeah. You know me. I’m always good.”

 

“You’re not, though. What he said-”

 

“Is nothing but the truth,” Gabriel finished for him, voice breaking.

 

Castiel went to kneel before his brother. “Gabriel, you said it yourself. Lucifer is blind. Do you want to know what I see, when I look at you? I see the brother who raised me, the one I love more than anything in this world. I see the strongest, fiercest, bravest prince around. I see someone worthy of a crown, which is what I fail to see every time I look at Michael. I see my best friend, too, but mostly I just see a good man. A better man than most.”

 

By the time Cas was finished, Gabriel was smiling once more. “Thanks, Cas. I needed to hear that.”

 

“It’s the truth,” Castiel said vehemently. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too, kiddo.”

 

They embraced, and parted ways.

 

***

 

Dean was browsing through the books Castiel had brought him when the door creaked open. “Hey, Cas,” he greeted without looking up. “Can you come help me with this sentence?”

 

“What kind of slave are you, again?” A voice that most definitely wasn’t Castiel’s spoke from the doorway.

 

“A pleasure slave, sir,” Dean said, voice shaking as he turned to face Michael.

 

“A pleasure slave, yet you’ve done nothing but displease your Masters. Tsk,” Michael said, stalking into the room. “Castiel told me you’ve been having fun together. Is this true?”

 

Torn between the inconvenient truth and a bad lie, Dean managed to stammer, “Yes.”

 

Michael shot forward and pulled Dean upright. “Listen here. I don’t know what kind of delusions he’s been putting in your head, but you are a slave. You are not Castiel’s friend, nor are you his lover. You were not sold to this palace to ‘have fun,’ or fall in love. Oh, don’t give me that look. You thought I didn’t know?” Michael growled. “I know everything that happens in this palace, down to the smallest detail. Disabuse Castiel of the notion that you two were meant to be together, or else I will bring unending suffering to you both.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it.

 

“Good boy. Oh, and if you tell Castiel I was here, I promise it will the last thing you say.”

 

***

 

When Castiel returned to his chambers, all he wanted to do was fall into Dean’s arms and never surface. He greeted Dean warmly when he entered, but the tension in the room was palpable.

 

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Dean lied. “When... When are you going to order another bed for me?”

 

“Is this about last night?” Cas asked, blushing. He squinted as he stared into Dean’s eyes. “It’s not, is it? Something else is wrong. Tell me.”

 

Dean’s eyes were wild with fear, and it set Castiel on edge. “Nothing’s wrong,” he snapped, but there was little heat to it.

 

“Tell me,” Castiel demanded. For a long moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, neither wanting to back down. Cas relented first. “Damn it, Dean.”

 

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. “I-” Trying to find words that wouldn’t put either of them in danger, he moved close to Castiel and whispered, “I’ve been ordered not to tell you,” before leaning down to silence the prince’s response with a kiss. It was bittersweet, but still he let it linger, knowing full well it could be their last.

 

Castiel was silent as they parted. He looked around the room, as if searching for a solution to their problems, and his eyes settled upon his writing desk.

 

_Michael?_ He wrote, so glad he’d taught Dean the alphabet the other day. Dean nodded, and Cas made his way to the crackling fireplace to destroy the strip of paper.

 

“I wish I could...” Dean made a scribbling motion with his hand, hoping to convey how badly he wanted to write.

 

“Me too,” Cas groaned. “I’ll teach you one of these days, I promise, but for now... Let’s go for a walk in the gardens. Lots of open spaces, and no one will be there, now, in the winter.”

 

Dean hesitated, knowing he’d already said too much. “I don’t think we should, Cas,” he said mournfully. “Castiel,” he corrected after a moment.

 

“Dean...” He lowered his voice. “Whatever he said to you, whatever he threatened you with, I promise I’ll protect you.”

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dean returned. “Look, I’m tired. It’s been a long day; I’m in a lot of pain, so I’m going to go to sleep.” He made his way towards the bed, took a few blankets, and began setting up on the floor in the corner.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why, exactly, are you making a pile of blankets in the corner?”

 

“It’s called a bed, Cas,” Dean ground out.

 

“No,” Cas answered, drawing out the word. “This is called a bed.” He said, pointing to the actual bed.

 

“A makeshift bed, OK? In any case, it’s where I’m sleeping.” He laid down on his back and immediately regretted it.

 

“Dean,” Cas cried, making his way over to the other. “I am not going to allow you to sleep in the floor in this condition. If you are so concerned about sharing a bed with me, let me sleep here.”

 

“Are you joking? What if your brother comes in and sees?”

 

Cas wanted to protest, but Dean had a good point. “Sleep in the bed with me tonight, Dean. I promise I’ll order a new bed to be put in tomorrow morning. I promise I won’t do what I did last night.”

 

“It’s not about that, Cas,” Dean said.

 

“Then...” Understanding dawned upon Castiel. This was Michael’s doing. He wanted to rage and roar and go on a rampage, to shout to the entire kingdom that he was a prince, too, and not without power, but right now, he was powerless to do anything but clench his fists at his sides. “Fine,” he ground out. He knew this wasn’t Dean’s fault, but right now, there was no one else around. “Go ahead, let him ruin what we’ve built. Let him win, Dean.”

 

“Cas-” Dean sounded so lost, but Cas paid him no heed.

 

“Maybe he’s right,” Castiel said bitterly. “Maybe... We were in error. Falling in love, that is.” He was expecting to get a rise out of Dean, but the other man just looked away, wiping ineffectively at the tears gathering in his eyes. He sighed deeply, and let his anger fade away. “Let’s not do this. This is what he wanted – to pit us against each other, to force us to ruin what we have.” As he stood, he offered a hand to Dean. “Come to bed, Dean.”

 

Dean hesitated for a moment before taking the proffered hand. “You’ve got to know that testing him is a bad idea, Cas,” he said even as he let himself be led to the bed.

 

“Some things are worth fighting for,” Cas answered simply. “You’re one of them.”

 

For a while, they laid there, silent, hovering on the edge of sleep.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“If I never get a chance to say this again...” Dean let his voice trail off. “I love you,” he said after a brief pause. “I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I love you, more than I love life itself. I love you, period.”

 

Grinning, Cas pressed a sloppy kiss to Dean’s lips. “I love you, too, Dean,” he whispered against the other’s mouth.

 

Despite everything, they were able to fall asleep smiling that night, content in each other’s embrace and secure in one another’s love.


	11. Judgement Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer makes his move in a desperate attempt to wrest the throne from Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for minor character death.

Breakfast that morning was a simple affair, at least until Michael started swaying in his seat.

 

“Brother?” Gabriel was the first to speak. “Are you well?”

 

Michael took a napkin from the table and began to mop his brow. “I- I think so. But I feel... Strange.”

 

“Perhaps we should get him a medic,” Lucifer laughed. “Although...” He stood. “I don’t think a medic would be of much use, at this point.”

 

Pushing back his chair in an attempt to stand, Michael demanded, “What did you do?”

  
“Nothing you can prove,” Lucifer snarled.

 

Gabriel rushed to Michael’s side and glared at Lucifer. “What have you done to him?”

 

“Nothing much,” Lucifer responded. “Nothing fatal, in any case.” He drew a vial from his robes. “Well, I say nothing fatal. What I meant to say is that I have the antidote to the poison I ‘accidently’ slipped into your drink, and I won’t hesitate to administer it as soon as you name me as rightful heir.”

 

Castiel paled, looking between the frantic faces of Gabriel and Michael and Lucifer’s own surprisingly calm countenance. “Brother, don’t do this,” he pleaded.

 

“The throne is mine, Michael. Admit defeat, and we can all walk away from this,” Lucifer drawled. When no one spoke for a moment, he waved his finger back and forth. “Tick, tock, boys.”

 

“You... You monster,” Castiel spat. “Give him the antidote!”

 

“I have all intentions of doing so,” Lucifer answered. “After he hands me his crown.”

 

“I would never,” Michael sneered, clutching at his chest. “I would sooner die than see you on my throne.”

 

“Then die you shall, and you won’t have to live to see me upon your precious throne. Funny, how that works.” Lucifer stood. “Goodbye, Michael, and good riddance.” He tipped the vial of antidote into his mouth and swallowed.

 

Michael screamed, and tried to launch himself at Lucifer, but his failing limbs were too weak to move very far. He leaned forward to whisper something in Gabriel’s ear. The younger prince’s eyes filled with tears, and he whispered, “I forgive you,” just as Michael’s eyes rolled back in his head.

 

“Brother?” Castiel asked, voice wrecked. During the past few moments, his life had gone up in flames, and now, sifting through the rubble, he was finding little of value in the ashes.

 

“He’s gone,” Gabriel said after a moment, looking just as lost as Castiel felt.

 

“Long live the king,” Lucifer whispered.

 

Castiel roared, and threw himself at Lucifer. “You dare?” He snarled, pressing an arm against Lucifer’s throat. “You devil.”

 

Lucifer laughed. “Unhand me, brother. This is no way to treat the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Heaven.”

 

“You’re mistaken, brother,” Gabriel said. He stood up after lowering Michael’s body to the floor. “ _I_ am the Crown Prince of this kingdom.”

 

“ _You_? I am the rightful heir, thanks to this... Unfortunate accident.”

 

“He named his successor, Lucifer, in his dying breath.” Gabriel turned to Castiel, eyes pleading. “You heard, did you not, brother?”

 

Castiel didn’t think twice. “Of course. We all heard Michael name Gabriel as his rightful heir.”

 

“You can’t do this,” Lucifer hissed, reversing his and Castiel’s positions so that Cas was the one pressed against the wall, choking for air. “You can’t do this,” he repeated, desperation coloring his every word.

 

“Lucifer.” Gabriel’s voice was enough to make Lucifer loose his grip, and Castiel gasped. “As the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Heaven, as the rightful heir to our father’s throne, I hereby banish you to the depths of Hell. You’ll leave tonight in disgrace, after you are publically stripped of your title.” Gabriel’s voice shook on the last few words.

 

“Don’t do this,” Lucifer pleaded, suddenly sounding incredibly small.

 

“I never wanted this, brother, but you’ve left me little choice,” Gabriel said, voice hard and stony. “I want you to know... I loved you. With all of my heart. And... I’m sorry.” With that, Gabriel turned away and shouted, “Guard!”

 

***

 

The next few hours passed in a blur. Castiel stayed plastered to Gabriel’s side throughout the entire ordeal, as Lucifer was publically stripped of his title, as Gabriel was crowned, as they both watched their eldest remaining brother pack, as Michael’s funeral was arranged and his body laid out.

 

Cas hated to admit it, but Dean didn’t cross his mind until hours later, when he returned to his chambers in the twilight, numb.

 

“Cas,” Dean greeted. “I heard the news,” he said, sounding about as helpless as Castiel had felt all day. “I’m so sorry, I... If there’s anything I can do, anything at all...”

 

“He was my brother,” Cas whispered, shedding the first tears of the day. “And I loved him, for all his faults, for all his flaws. Lucifer, too. I loved them both, and today, I had to watch my family break apart. I watched Gabriel hold Michael as he died, I watched Lucifer pack his things and leave in disgrace, and now I’ll never see either of them ever again.”

 

Castiel made his way to his writing table, and upended it with a roar. The ink well shattered upon the floor, spilling its icy blank contents upon the scattered papers. A moment later, he crumbled to the floor as well, sobbing and screaming and rocking himself back and forth.

 

Then Castiel started pounding the floor, and it was only because of Dean’s intervention that he didn’t break every bone in his hands. Overpowering him, Dean maneuvered them so that Castiel was in his lap, cradled like a child in his arms.

  
“Shh, shh, it’s OK,” Dean soothed, even though they both knew it really wasn’t OK at all.

 

“Nothing will ever be OK again,” Castiel wailed.

 

“Yes, it will be. Cas, look at me. I know you’re grieving right now, and it feels like a deep, dark hole you’ll never climb out of, but one day you’ll see the sun again. I promise you that, and I promise I’ll be right by your side every step of the way.”

 

Cas didn’t speak, just let himself be rocked asleep by the gentle motion of Dean’s swaying. He was vaguely aware of being picked up and carried somewhere soft and warm before a dreamless sleep enveloped him once more.


End file.
